


Fate or Chance

by giantsequoia



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, alcohol cw, the electricity thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantsequoia/pseuds/giantsequoia
Summary: Repost of a kinkmeme fill from several years ago.Set in Lothering after the Battle of Ostagar but before the coming of the Blight. Andrew Cousland meets Garrett Hawke in the village tavern; they bond unexpectedly, and also they fuck in a barn.





	Fate or Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Revised 24/05/2017
> 
>  **FYI:** This story is fantasy. The sex it depicts is not intended to be realistic.

Andrew Cousland stepped into the Dane’s Refuge warily, scanning the crowded room for anyone who was paying too much attention to him, or who just looked suspicious. The tavern was packed, both with locals and refugees fleeing the Blight. If anybody recognized him as one of the Grey Wardens who had defended himself earlier that day from Teyrn Loghain’s men, they weren’t being obvious about it. He noticed one or two young women making eyes at him and suppressed a grimace. It reminded him of the way the daughters of fawning nobility had treated him at Castle Cousland – like a means to their own advancement. Maybe their attraction was honest and maybe it wasn’t, but Andrew just couldn’t deal with vapidity, and most of those women had been incurably vapid.

Morrigan certainly wasn’t vapid. Now there was a real woman – beautiful, intelligent, powerful, and free. Why couldn’t there have been anyone like her in Highever? She was interesting. She reminded Andrew of the very Wilds she hailed from.

Unfortunately for Andrew, Morrigan hadn’t acceded to his request to join him, and he suspected that getting to know the witch wouldn’t happen in a tavern.

Andrew shifted himself as became aware of an uncomfortable tightness in his breeches. Thinking of Morrigan reminded him of one of the other reasons he’d come here. He had some... frustrations he needed to work off before he could concentrate on killing darkspawn to the best of his ability.

Andrew folded his arms as he stood by the door for a moment, looking for a table somewhere that wasn’t crowded with more people than it was designed for, or a space that wasn’t taken up by displaced refugees. He had changed into more comfortable clothes in camp outside the village, but he made sure the Cousland crest on the hilt of his sword sheathed at his waist was clearly visible. He also made no effort to hide the Grey Warden griffon emblazoned on the shield strapped to his back. If anyone else wanted to try their hand at collecting the bounty, they were welcome to it. Effort spent on maiming fools would be just as fulfilling as spending himself in a warm, willing body.

Well, maybe not quite as much, but Andrew would take what he could get.

It appeared that the only space remaining where he might sit and have a drink in peace was at the bar. There were two empty stools in the whole tavern, and if he didn’t get over there and claim one soon, Andrew had a feeling even those would be gone. He sighed. The bar it was.

He had to fight through the crowds to get there. It annoyed him a little bit – Andrew was used to people getting out of his way no matter what they were doing. He was Lord Andrew Cousland, after all, not some commoner. He tried not to feel too snobby about it – he hadn’t hidden his Cousland sword, but he wasn’t exactly waving it around, either. Even so, when people couldn’t find an extra few inches of space for just a few seconds to let him by, it made Andrew want to punch them. He was entitled to respect as a person if for no other reason. And he wasn’t just any person. He liked to think he carried the air of his family’s nobility about him wherever he went. Maybe he was a spoiled aristocratic asshole, but even if that was so, he couldn’t help it. It was the way he’d been raised. Technically, he was the rightful Teyrn of Highever.

Andrew gritted his teeth. Rendon Howe’s face flashed through his mind, and he clenched his fists involuntarily. In his mind, he swore the same oath of vengeance that had kept him going since the slimy bastard’s coup.

He shouldered his way through an obstinate crowd of boisterous men, perhaps with more force than was necessary. One of them objected when he nearly spilled his drink, but Andrew’s size and the look on his face was enough to make the man bow his head and mumble an apology. Andrew smiled darkly. Yeah, he still had it.

Andrew finally reached the bar and sat down on one of the two empty stools, still mercifully unclaimed. He signaled the bartender with a well-practiced gesture, and a moment later he was rewarded with a foaming mug of ale. He grabbed it and took a long, grateful quaff.

“Ahh,” Andrew said after swallowing. “That’s better.”

He’d needed this. The coup in Highever, the catastrophe at Ostagar, the looming threat of the Blight... he needed one last chance to relax and enjoy himself before the hard work began.

Too bad he was here by his bloody self. Morrigan had been his first choice, but she wasn’t a tavern person. Alistair was tired and upset and... well, a bit dumb. Leliana creeped him out with her talk of the Maker and the way she looked at him like she thought she knew everything about him and it made her sad. Sten was like a brick wall that knew how to talk, and could only rarely be convinced to do so. Plus, bringing him to the tavern in the village where he’d slaughtered an entire family seemed a bit tactless. Andrew wondered if he should have brought his dog.

He took another swig of ale, draining his mug. He had to give the bartender credit – he was sharp and efficient. He had another full mug in front of Andrew almost before he’d asked for one. Andrew smiled his thanks and made a mental note to tip.

He took a calmer sip of his second mug and considered his situation. If he couldn’t convince some spirited young lady who didn’t chatter endlessly about nothing to warm his bed (so to speak), perhaps he’d find a spunky, well-built lad with a husky voice and a penchant for bottoming...

“Well hey!” said a merry voice behind him. “It’s you again!”

Andrew looked around as a young man with tousled hair and a prodigious black beard, barely old enough to be drinking, plunked himself down in the empty stool to his right. He squinted – he knew the man from somewhere, and recently, but...

“That was some fight earlier!” the man said admiringly. “You were absolutely savage with that blade of yours.” He pounded his chest enthusiastically. “Curs got what they deserved. And when you hit that one guy with your shield! _Pow_ , knocked him flat! I just about finished in my smalls.”

Andrew choked on his ale, bursting out with incredulous laughter. Who said something like that? He looked at the man as he fought to clear the alcoholic beverage from his windpipe, and it came to him. They’d spoken outside the tavern just before Loghain’s men had attacked him, Alistair, and Morrigan. He was a local, apparently, and he’d warned them about the men waiting inside.

Hmm... He’d nearly “finished in his smalls,” had he?

“You liked that, eh?” Andrew said somewhat hoarsely after he’d recovered from his coughing fit. He cleared his throat a few more times. “Those clods were working for Loghain. Lying bastard blames the Wardens for his own treachery!” He scoffed angrily.

The man rolled his eyes. “So I’ve heard. I don’t know anyone who actually believes that, other than those louts you put down.” He signaled the bartender for a drink. “You... are a Warden, aren’t you? Fighting the Blight and all?”

“Yes,” Andrew said.

His companion nodded seriously. “I wish you luck,” he said, wrapping his hand around the tall mug the bartender set before him. “My dad always said the Wardens were the best fighters in Thedas. You been with them long?”

Andrew almost wished he had. All the experienced Grey Wardens had died at Ostagar, leaving him, a new recruit, and Alistair, a rookie, to stop the Fifth Blight by themselves. Comforting prospects.

“No,” Andrew answered. “I was recruited in Highever less than a month ago.”

“Ahh,” the man said. “I’ve been there. Lovely city. Say – you’ve got a kind of look about you – intense, like. Are you a noble?”

Andrew let out a bark of laughter. Someone had noticed! He didn’t have delusions of grandeur.

“I am,” he said as the bartender brought the man’s drink. “My name is Andrew Cousland.”

The man’s expression turned from friendly to shocked in an instant. “Oh! Uh...” He inclined his head somewhat clumsily. “My Lord Cousland. That explains that, I guess! I’m sorry if I’ve been... er... I mean-”

Andrew cut off the man’s apology with a wave of his hand. “Please,” he said. “We’re not in Highever. Just call me Andrew. I’m not above mingling with the common folk.”

He hoped he hadn’t sounded too stuck-up when he said that. But really, the common folk weren’t so bad. When they bathed. Andrew considered himself a man of the people, just... more important than some of them.

“Good to know,” the man said. “That was going to be my next question.”

He hesitated, then stuck out his hand. “Garrett Hawke.”

Andrew shook it heartily. “Nice to meet you, Garrett.”

Garrett’s hands had a curious lack of calluses for a man of his age and build, but his grip was firm. Andrew supposed not all men were soldiers, though quite a few had signed on with the army in Highever to fight darkspawn. If he wasn’t a soldier, what did that leave? A farmer? But they were just as callused, typically. Curious.

Well... soft hands. What could he do with them? Andrew wondered. This lad had serious potential.

Andrew sipped his ale and looked at Garrett sideways. Perhaps there was something predatory in his gaze, because the younger man suddenly looked self-conscious. He ran one hand through his hair, which was unruly in a way that suggested he did that often, and knocked back the ale in his mug in one swallow. He made a gratified exhalation as he slammed the mug down onto the bar and called for another.

“By the way,” Garrett said suddenly, and Andrew turned his head to face him fully. “I was wondering something earlier. You just got to Lothering today, right?”

“Yes,” Andrew said.

“And you were at Ostagar, so from the south, presumably.”

“Right.”

“Did you run into some bandits on the highway?” Garrett asked. He nodded to the bartender when he brought Garrett another mug of ale. “They’ve been lurking there for days... robbing blind everyone that passes by this way.”

“Oh – yes, I met them,” Andrew said. He smiled, already knowing what Garrett was going to say next.

“You’d think the Teyrn’s men could have driven off the bloody highwaymen instead of drinking and attacking passersby,” Garrett commented. “Lucky for us, someone else drove them off. It wasn’t you, was it?”

Andrew nodded with a sly gleam in his eye. “Yes, that was me.”

Garrett’s face broke into a grin. He raised his arm. “Hey, everyone!” he called. “This here’s the guy who drove out those thieving bastards!”

Not many even heard what Garrett said over the din of voices and laughter, but those nearest to them turned in surprise, and then broke out into a chorus of cheers. Andrew looked around to see numerous people nearby applauding him. He smiled in what he hoped was a modest manner and waved. Someone clapped him on the shoulder unexpectedly, and he nearly spilled his ale all over his lap.

“More will probably come, but it’s good to know there is some justice left here,” Garrett said to him as Andrew turned back to the bar. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Andrew said. “I needed the exercise.”

Garrett snickered and waved his hand at the bartender. “Looks to me like you get plenty of exercise. Barkeep! Get this man a shot of whiskey, on me!”

Andrew perked up. Whiskey sounded good. He hadn’t had a good stiff rye in a long time. He might have gotten some already if he wasn’t short on coin. How ironic, he thought dryly, that the Teyrn of Highever can’t afford to buy his own whiskey in a village tavern... wait, had Garrett just complemented his musculature? Andrew suppressed a smirk. This was looking better and better.

“You have my thanks, good man,” Andrew said to the bartender a minute later when he brought the small glass of dark amber liquid that Garrett had requested. He flipped the man a silver for a tip; the bartender caught it deftly and nodded his thanks.

Andrew raised the shot glass towards Garrett, who was watching him with a grin.

“To the charming village of Lothering,” Andrew said, “and its equally charming folk.” He tossed back the whiskey with relish, rolling his head and shoulders as the liquid burned against his throat all the way down to the pit of his stomach. While the ale had made barely any impact on his constitution, after the whiskey Andrew immediately felt somewhat light-headed. He smacked his lips. “Delicious.”

Garrett nodded, leaning forward with his forearms on the surface of the bar. “I know it’s not much of a reward,” he said, “but I’m afraid I don’t have the money for anything else.”

“A shot of whiskey is a fine reward,” Andrew assured him. A lewd idea entered his head, and any shred of inhibition he might have been clinging to melted before the whiskey’s fire.

Andrew leaned forward to mimic Garrett’s position and tilted his head towards the other man. “If, however, you’re of a mind to reward me on behalf of Lothering for services rendered,” he said in a low voice, “surely there’s something we can work out.”

Garrett looked at him in surprise, but then a wry smile crossed his face. He seemed to be regarding Andrew in an entirely new way, and he appeared... interested. Andrew silently rejoiced.

“I bought you a drink,” Garrett said with a commendable effort at nonchalance. “You have something else in mind?”

“Sure,” Andrew said. “You know somewhere private we can go?”

Garrett’s eyes widened and he choked on his ale at Andrew’s directness, but he couldn’t stifle his grin. His eyes ran unabashedly down Andrew’s body, pausing over the slight bulge in his breeches.

Oh, I know, Andrew thought. I’m totally about to make your month. The thought sent a shiver of excitement up his spine.

“Well,” Garrett finally muttered, “my family will be at home, but... there’s always the barn.” He raised one eyebrow with a hopeful suggestiveness, clearly nervous about inviting a nobleman to his barn rather than his bed.

“Oh?” Andrew asked, amused. He wasn’t a complete prude. He would have fucked the lad in the dirt under the stars if he’d asked. “Up for a roll in the hay, then?” He snaked out a hand to trace along the skin of Garrett’s back just above the waist of his trousers.

Garrett stiffened, his expression slackening somewhat. He tossed back the rest of his ale and then dug frantically in his pocket for coins. He dropped them onto the bar as he got to his feet.

“Let’s go,” he said huskily, gesturing with his head.

This time Andrew couldn’t suppress his smirk of victory. He finished off his ale in a gulp, stood up, and dropped some coins of his own onto the bar. He nodded to the bartender when the man said goodnight and followed Garrett Hawke through the crowded tavern, out into the night.

∞

The night was cool and clear. Andrew inhaled deeply as he trailed Garrett through the village, away from the Chantry and towards the outlying farmsteads. The scent of horses and leather reminded him of home.

His eyes fell on Garrett’s back as the young man slipped around behind a blacksmith’s shop to cross a vacant field. He wasn’t as tall or as muscular as Andrew was, but he had a certain lean grace that the warrior found curiously intriguing. His eyes traced the outline of Garrett’s backside, feeling a thrill of anticipation as he visualized what he planned to do to him. He would tug down the lad’s trousers... grind up against him, perhaps kiss his neck from behind to feel his shivers of arousal... reach down to slide a spit-slick finger into his tight warmth... mmm. He reached down almost unconsciously to fondle himself through his breeches. This would be fun.

Garrett was leading him towards a cozy brick farmhouse. Andrew could see candlelight flickering in a few of the windows. They went around back, and Garrett paused.

Andrew wondered why he’d stopped, but then Garrett had moved right up to him and slid his hands down around Andrew’s waist to squeeze his butt. Andrew snickered softly.

“Eager, are we?” he asked, leaning forward to catch Garrett’s lower lip between his teeth.

Garrett murmured indistinctly against his mouth as their lips connected, but he pulled away after a moment. Andrew felt an acute disappointment, but he could be patient. There would be more, much more, very soon.

“No,” Garrett whispered. “I mean – yes – yes, very, but – hang on for a moment, would you? Wait here? I need to get something.”

Andrew was curious as to what needed to be gotten, but he assented with a nod. “Sure. Just... don’t take too long,” he added, catching Garrett’s hand in his own as the lad darted away towards the back door of the farmhouse.

Garrett smiled enticingly at him, and their fingers brushed apart as he moved away. When he reached the door, there was a brief glint of reflected starlight from a metal key and a click of the lock’s release. He disappeared inside the house with barely a whisper.

Andrew leaned against the wall of the farmhouse with his arms folded comfortably, invisible in the darkness of night. He looked up at the stars, trying to distract himself from the pulsing, aching hardness in his pants. The summer air was moderate and mercifully dry. A warm breeze drifted past him, its caress delightfully smooth against the bare skin of his arms and neck. A few biting insects harassed him, but compared to the bloodthirsty swarms he’d dealt with in the Korcari Wilds, they were barely a nuisance.

Andrew looked across the field to the dark shape he assumed was the barn. He hoped there would be a horse blanket or something for them to romp around on. “Roll in the hay” was an amusingly apt euphemism, but Andrew wasn’t exactly eager to be scratched by stalks of desiccated plant matter while he fucked young Garrett into the next Age. He could always use his shirt, he supposed.

Andrew heard the door open and glanced over as a light bloomed in the darkness. Garrett emerged from the dark farmhouse holding a lantern and clutching something else in his other hand. That was a good idea – he’d like to be able to see the lad he was so looking forward to violating, as he was violating him.

“Come on,” Garrett whispered, and he whisked off through the night towards the barn. Andrew followed eagerly.

“What have you got there?” he asked as he caught up to the younger man.

Garrett held up a beautifully carved ceramic flask with the hand not holding the lantern. He shook it, and the telltale slosh of liquid inside made Andrew grin.

“Fereldan rye, from my dad’s old store,” Garrett explained in a hushed voice. “He died a few years ago. My mother would kill me if she knew I was drinking it outside a special occasion, but I think my old man would approve.” He grinned. “Who says being nailed by one of the fabled Grey Wardens isn’t a special occasion?”

His words ignited a thrill of intense desire that rippled through Andrew’s body from his groin. He grabbed Garrett by his wrist of the hand holding the flask.

“You like being nailed?” Andrew muttered in Garrett’s ear as they reached the barn. Instead of entering through the large entrance in the wall nearest the farmhouse, Garrett led him around the side to a human-sized door.

“I generally prefer to be on top,” Garrett told him as they slipped through the door into a shadowy tack room. “But you... from the moment I first saw you I haven’t been able to think clearly about anything but you on top of me, pounding into me.”

Andrew growled approvingly and grabbed Garrett around the waist as the lad set the lantern down on a large wooden box that, from the smell of it, contained oats. He leaned in close, inhaling the younger man’s sweaty, musky scent instead.

“There’s this too,” Garrett said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a smaller glass bottle. He held it in the lantern light for Andrew to examine. The thumb-sized vial contained shimmering olive oil. Andrew grinned lustily. He leaned down to clamp his lips greedily over Garrett’s collarbone.

“I was just going to use spit,” Andrew said as he trailed his lips up the shivering lad’s neck and jaw. “But that’s even better.”

Garrett set the oil down next to the lantern and reached around Andrew’s back to unstop the ceramic flask. He took a hearty swig as Andrew nuzzled his face against Garrett’s luxurious beard. Garrett’s free hand curled around Andrew’s neck and roved upwards over the short stubble that covered his head. His other hand drifted down to press the flask into Andrew’s hand, and he took it.

He brought it up to his mouth for a taste. He didn’t want to gulp down Garrett’s deceased father’s prized whiskey, so he took a cautious sip at first. The liquid hadn’t been aged for very long – it had a powerful bite and it burned his mouth, but it was exquisitely smooth and left a delightful, woody aftertaste. Andrew groaned his appreciation and took another sip before handing the flask back to Garrett.

“Oh, my lady of Fereldan rye,” he muttered, feeling a heady buzz creep up on him before the burning sensation in his throat had even abated. “How I’ve missed you.”

Garrett’s snicker was cut off abruptly as Andrew planted a fiery kiss on his lips. He could taste the rye on Garrett’s breath, and it only excited him further. He forced his tongue into Garrett’s mouth and was pleased when the other man pushed back with his own, twining their tongues together in an erotic dance. His questing hands slipped under Garrett’s shirt and crawled up his smooth chest, gripping him just under his arms with his thumbs over the lad’s nipples.

Garrett moaned against Andrew’s lips at the contact, and Andrew felt goosebumps racing across his flesh. Garrett’s nipples hardened beneath his thumbs in response to his stimulation. He fluttered his fingers enticingly in Garrett’s armpits, and the younger man let out a surprised gasp at the sensation.

“Ticklish?” Andrew murmured against Garrett’s mouth, and he felt the other’s lips curve up in a smile. He wriggled his fingers again, and his touch had the desired effect: Garrett jerked beneath him and raised his arms involuntarily away from Andrew’s questing fingers, allowing him to draw the lad’s shirt up and over his head. He draped it over the oat box so it wouldn’t be lost in the dark.

Andrew ran his hands down over Garrett’s bare chest, delightfully smooth and still largely undefined by muscle. The only trace of hair was a slight tuft just beneath his navel, which Andrew ran his fingers through lustfully. Maker’s breath, but Garrett was gorgeous. Not unhealthily thin, but not too heavily muscled either. He was pliant beneath Andrew’s roving fingers, and the scent of his sweat as Andrew leaned down to kiss his neck was intensely exciting.

He couldn’t wait to see Garrett’s tight little ass. Oh, Maker, he wanted to see it right now. His hands trailed down over the area in question, squeezing and relishing the firm buttocks he felt beneath Garrett’s trousers.

But then Garrett was backing away, taking one of Andrew’s hands with one of his. He grabbed his shirt and shoved a fold of it into his belt, letting it hang next to his leg.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go to the loft – there’s more room.”

He reached out to slip the olive oil into his pocket with his other hand. Andrew acquiesced, allowing himself to drawn into the darkness. He hooked the lantern over a finger of his free hand, managing to catch up the flask of rye with the rest of his fingers.

They left the cramped tack room and entered the long central hall of the barn with a row of stalls on either side. Several of them contained horses that snorted greetings to Garrett as he passed. He whispered reassurance to the animals as he led Andrew unerringly, even though he had little light with his body blocking the lantern’s rays.

Presently they reached the rear half of the barn, which was a grand space filled with stacked bales of hay. Garrett paused briefly to dart into another tack room and snag a few relatively clean saddle blankets, which he proceeded to spread on a large bale. Andrew set down the lantern and flask nearby.

The moment Garrett had finished what he was doing, Andrew grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around. He forced Garrett down onto his back atop the hay with an imperious hand in the middle of his bare chest. He climbed onto the hay himself, straddling Garrett’s waist, and leaned down for another greedy kiss.

Garrett’s hands slid up Andrew’s arms and over his back as their tongues battled for dominance. His fingers soon encountered the griffon-emblazoned kite shield strapped to Andrew’s back. Garrett’s fingers explored the straps for a moment, determining where they connected, before freeing the heavy metal shield and maneuvering it onto the hay beside them. In the process, he nearly knocked over the lantern that Andrew had set down; Andrew’s hand flashed out just in time, steadying the lantern before Garrett had completed his hissed curse.

“Be careful with that shit,” he said in a soft, amused tone, seeing Garrett’s stricken expression. “Put the shield down.”

Garrett did so, carefully laying down the shield with the griffon design facing downwards and thereby presenting a smoothly reflective concave surface. Andrew balanced the lantern in the hollow of his shield and pushed it far enough away that their cavorting had little chance of knocking it over, but not far enough to leave them in complete darkness.

“There,” he said. “Now we won’t knock it over and burn down the barn.”

Garrett gave a nervous, relieved laugh. He watched Andrew hungrily as the warrior sat back, supporting himself on his haunches so as not to crush Garrett’s stomach with his weight. Freed from the weight of his shield, Andrew reached down to draw his light cotton shirt over his head, reveling in the warm, dusty air on his bare skin.

Garrett eyed him with an eager, lustful look in his eyes. He reached out to grab the ceramic flask and unstopped it, taking a mouthful before handing it to Andrew. As soon as he took it, Garrett reached out to run his hands up Andrew’s torso, exploring the planes and ripples of his muscled physique.

Andrew shuddered under his touch, pleased at the younger man’s keen desire. He took a deep pull from the flask and shook his head with a grunt as the powerful spirits seared their way down his gullet. He sealed the flask and set it aside, slightly dizzy from the surge of warmth and vertigo that ensued. He grabbed one of Garrett’s exploring hands and took a finger into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

Garrett inhaled deeply, folding the rest of his fingers around Andrew’s chin. His free hand had slid down to rove over the prominent bulge in Andrew’s breeches, caressing it to find the stiff rod of his cock. He gripped it as best he could through the fabric, stroking it back and forth, and Andrew groaned at his touch. He pushed his hips forward, delighting in the rough sensation on his shaft of Garrett’s hand through his breeches. He pulled Garrett’s finger from his mouth and grazed his teeth along the lad’s thumb.

Andrew reached down with both hands to untie the laces of his breeches, determined to have his cock free of its confines and to feel Garrett’s hand on him with nothing in between. Their eyes locked together, Andrew managed after a few unbearable moments to free himself, and he guided Garrett’s hand back to his shaft. Garrett immediately curled his fingers around the stiff flesh and began to stroke, and Andrew leaned over him with a pleased growl, supporting himself with his hands on either side of Garrett’s head. He rolled his hips gently with Garrett’s stroking motion, sliding his cock in and out of the tunnel of his fingers.

Garrett’s unoccupied fingers were fumbling with the ties of his own trousers, gritting his teeth with lust as he stared hungrily at Andrew’s thick erection in his hand. He finally managed to free himself, and Andrew reached down with one hand to take Garrett’s cock in a firm grip, replicating the rhythm Garrett was using on him.

“Nhnghh.” Garrett groaned, tossing his head back as his frustration was relieved.

Andrew straightened himself and dislodged Garrett’s hand from his cock with his own. He positioned his erection against Garrett’s and wrapped his fingers around both, sliding them against each other in a single, intimate beat. Garrett stared up at him with glazed eyes, breathing heavily at the sensations, his lips parted in bliss. His arms collapsed, spread out to either side.

Andrew gazed down at him with a fond smile. The lad was vigorous and enthusiastic, but his inexperience showed. His youthful lust was strangely, intensely sexy. Andrew recalled Garrett saying that he preferred to be on top – had he ever taken another man’s cock inside him at all?

The easiest way to find out was to ask. “Have you ever bottomed before?” Andrew asked in a low, intimate voice.

“Just once,” was Garrett’s breathless answer. “He... wasn’t as big as you.”

“So I bet you’re nice and tight,” Andrew said with a slight purr in his voice.

Garrett laughed. “I imagine so, yes,” he replied.

“Well let’s not waste any more time finding out, shall we?” Andrew suggested. He pushed himself up with his hands on either side of Garrett’s chest and slid his legs off the hay bale to stand upright. He reached down to slip his fingers under Garrett’s waist.

“Turn over,” he said, and Garrett obliged him. Andrew tugged his loosened trousers down to his thighs, revealing tight black brief-style smalls. He ran a teasing finger down the long, narrow indentation of Garrett’s spine, enjoying watching the lad shiver at his touch. His finger reached Garrett’s smalls and hooked into the waist, tugging it down gently to reveal the top of the cleft of his ass, smooth and softly illuminated by the lantern’s fire.

Andrew’s breath caught with lustful excitement. He leaned down to softly kiss the skin of Garrett’s back just above the cleft. His lips whispered lower as he continued to tug down on Garrett’s smalls, now with a finger from each hand. He grazed his teeth along one buttock as it was revealed, and then he grabbed both of them and squeezed.

“Beautiful ass,” Andrew murmured. He spread Garrett’s buttocks with his thumbs, revealing the tight pink swirl of muscle between them. Eagerly, Andrew leaned forward and darted his tongue across the sensitive pucker, then drew it back down more slowly.

Garrett gasped at the sensation, his fingers clenching the saddle blanket into bunched fabric. Andrew’s expert tongue continued to work into the tight opening, spreading and probing that most intimate place. Garrett couldn’t restrain his excited panting and groaning – he’d apparently never experienced such stimulation before. The thought that he was the first to taste the young man in this way caused a deep thrill of excitement to ripple through Andrew’s body. His ached to sink his cock into Garrett to the hilt, to feel his muscles clench around his shaft and hear his whines and moans of pleasure, but it could wait. Not much longer, but it could wait.

Garrett writhed against his tongue, producing a series of gasping, whining noises that made Andrew absolutely determined to make the lad’s first experience of anilingus the best he would ever have. He threw himself into the erotic act with gusto, squeezing Garrett’s firm buttocks as he swept and prodded with his tongue. The noises Garrett produced in response, among them some rather colourful and blasphemous oaths, made Andrew grin. _Oh, I know... I really am that good_.

He kept at it for a while, enjoying the sense of domination he felt with the young man pliant beneath his fingers and tongue, utterly at his mercy. Garrett twitched and moaned breathlessly as Andrew worked into him, and while his whimpering was exciting enough in itself, eventually Andrew grew impatient to satisfy his own urges.

Deciding it would be better for both of them if he eased himself into Garrett after he’d been loosened up somewhat, Andrew slipped his hand into the pocket of Garrett’s trousers. His fingers closed around the bottle of olive oil, and it gleamed in the lantern’s light as he withdrew it. Garrett twisted around to see what he was doing as he unstopped the vial and dipped his middle finger into it. Andrew winked at him and stroked his oil-slick finger down Garrett’s pucker, making the lad shudder at the sensation. Carefully, Andrew inserted his finger up to the second knuckle, feeling a thrill of pleasure just watching Garrett’s face. The younger man had his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched in an intent frown as he adjusted to the initial discomfort. His body was exquisitely tight and warm around Andrew’s finger, and he let out a soft groan as Andrew pushed it in as deep as he could. He drew it out slowly, flexing his finger against Garrett’s sensitive insides until he had completely withdrawn.

After adding another few drops of oil to his finger, Andrew slid it back in and then out again, invading Garrett’s private warmth in a slow, gentle rhythm. Garrett pushed back against his finger, eager for more of the penetrating sensation, and when logistics allowed it Andrew obliged him by adding a second finger. Garrett let out a little gasp and an “Oooh” when he did so, perhaps not having expected the added girth. Andrew slowed down a little and twisted his fingers around a little inside Garrett, spreading the oil around.

A few errant thoughts coalesced somewhere in the depraved depths of Andrew’s slightly drunken mind, and with a wicked smirk he angled his fingers down to stroke against Garrett’s prostate. The lad jerked and made a strangled sort of cry, which degenerated into lusty whimpering when Andrew did it again, and again.

“Like that?” Andrew murmured, and Garrett nodded with his mouth hanging open, unable to articulate any actual words. He continued to stimulate Garrett while his other hand curved around the younger man’s thigh. He ran his lips and tongue over Garrett’s butt and the small of his back as his fingers worked, savouring the taste of sweat and male musk.

Garrett was clearly enjoying himself immensely, but Andrew was so hard it was almost painful, and he didn’t want to stroke his own cock too much before he sank it into this beautiful lad’s tight ass. He decided that the lubrication he’d worked into Garrett coupled with a further slick of oil on his shaft would be good enough, and he stood up.

Andrew looked down at Garrett spread before him, his ass almost perfectly at dick-level, and considered burying himself balls deep in him right like that. But he wanted to see Garrett’s face as his hole stretched to accommodate Andrew’s girth. He wanted to watch him wince and whimper and shudder as he took a man’s cock inside him for only the second time in his life. Practically an anal virgin, and as tight as one. Damn, he couldn’t wait.

“Stand up,” Andrew said as he withdrew his finger from Garrett hole and set the open bottle of oil down on his shield. Garrett did as he’d asked, taking the opportunity to slip out of his trousers and smalls. Andrew followed his example, leaving his breeches in a pile next to his shirt on the hay bale and his boots on the floor of the barn. He sat down on the saddle blanket and leaned back against the next tier of stacked hay, stroking his achingly stiff cock with one hand. With his other he reached for the bottle of oil and poured out a generous slick. He stroked his cock lazily, spreading the lubrication over the head and shaft.

“Come here, boy,” Andrew said huskily as Garrett just stood there, watching him hungrily. Garrett grinned and climbed onto the hay, straddling him with his knees to either side of Andrew’s hips. His firm buttocks slid against Andrew’s lubricated dick enticingly, and his own erection left a smear of precome in the fine dusting of hair that covered Andrew’s abdominal muscles.

Andrew set the oil aside and gripped Garrett’s butt with both hands. He nuzzled his face against Garrett’s smooth chest, teasing his nipples with his tongue.

“...Andrew,” Garrett murmured hesitantly.

“Mmm.”

“You’re a Grey Warden,” Garrett said musingly, as if this statement was necessary to support what he would say next. Andrew looked at him quizzically.

“This will sound like a weird question...”

“The taint isn’t contagious.”

Garrett laughed. “I’m glad to hear that, but... that wasn’t my question. Are you a... pious man, at all?”

It was Andrew’s turn to laugh in surprise. He looked up at Garrett and reached up one hand to run his fingers through the lad’s beard.

“Pious?” he answered. “Not particularly, but I think it’s rather too late at this point for both of us, don’t you? I suppose you could always go to confession if it bothers you. What does that have to do with the Wardens?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Garrett said through a smirk. He reached out to hold onto Andrew’s shoulders, sliding his fingers down the warrior’s muscled arms. “The Wardens are known for their...”

“Stamina?” Andrew supplied insinuatingly. “Sexual prowess? I know. All true, too. Some of the legends about Garahel are just... inspiring.”

Garrett smiled and rolled his eyes in a “whatever” expression. “Right. Still not what I meant. Er, let me put it this way. I want to... do something. Something fun, but if I show it to you, you might – well –what I mean is I could get into a lot of-”

“Oh,” Andrew said as he finally caught on, his hands creeping up Garrett’s back. “Are you talking about being an apostate?”

Garrett gaped at him. “How did you know?”

Andrew snorted. “I had it figured it out a few minutes after we shook hands in the tavern,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m perceptive.”

Garrett looked relieved, but also somewhat discomfited. “That’s, er, good to know,” he said. He wiped sweat from his forehead and ran his fingers through his thick hair. “And will you tell anyone? If I was taken to the Circle, my family... I mean, I have responsibilities here... if I-”

Andrew silenced him with a finger over his lips, thinking of Morrigan and what she might say if she found out he’d reported this young man to the templars. Not to mention his own conscience. He doubted rather seriously that Garrett was a blood mage, and even if he was... well, it wasn’t Andrew’s problem. The Blight was his concern, not rogue mages.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said. “Your life, your business. Just be careful.”

Garrett’s look of relief became intense and complete. “Thank you,” he breathed. He grabbed Andrew by his shoulders again and leaned down for a kiss. The revelation of his secret seemed to energize him, spurring him on to show physical affection and please the man whose waist he was straddling. Andrew was happy to oblige him, and he felt a thrill when this time it was Garrett who forced his tongue into Andrew’s mouth. He welcomed it with his own, his hands clenching on Garrett’s back.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” Andrew asked when their lips parted. His hands roved down to grip Garrett’s butt, intending to lift him slightly into position to mount.

Garrett’s face took on a mischievous grin, and Andrew felt a twinge of uncertainty at what he was getting into. The man was a mage – just what was he about to do?

Garrett reached behind him to take Andrew’s oil-slick erection in his hand. He stroked it slowly and at the same time leaned down to press his mouth against Andrew’s neck. The moment Garrett’s lips touched his skin, Andrew arched his back and groaned as an intense, erotic tingling rippled through his body from his neck to his cock.

“Whoooaaa!” he exclaimed, his whole body trembling. The stimulation immediately caused his pulse to pick up and hair all over his body to stand on end. His hands squeezed Garrett’s ass hard enough to make him grunt in discomfort, but Andrew barely noticed. It felt like the core of his body was alight with sexual bliss, converging to a fervid point at the head of his cock. He’d never felt anything like it in his life – it was like a full-body orgasm minus the ejaculation. Garrett’s tongue swirled over his neck, and Andrew felt the current responding, twining inside him like a rope of fire.

The sensations were almost too intense, hovering just barely under the threshold of pain. After a few moments of paralyzing ecstasy, Garrett lifted his mouth from Andrew’s neck, and while he couldn’t help a disappointment that was almost painful in itself, there was also a twinge of relief.

“Maker’s breath!” Andrew gasped, panting for air. “What the... what the fuck...” He could barely speak.

Garrett winked at him smugly, one hand still slowly stroking Andrew’s cock behind him. “Magic,” he said. He paused. “That might have been too much for the first time... but I figured you could take it. What with your legendary Grey Warden stamina and all.” He smiled crookedly.

Andrew smiled and ran a trembling hand over his head. He revised his opinion of Garrett Hawke – he was young and enthusiastic, but inexperienced he most certainly was _not_. He pulled Garrett down to his mouth.

“I’m going to want you to do that again,” Andrew murmured with his lips at the jumping pulse point of Garrett’s throat. “Not yet, though.”

Garrett leaned over to grab the oil and poured some onto his fingers. “Trust me, it’ll be better when you’re inside me,” he promised. “Much better.”

Andrew groaned incoherently and couldn’t help snickering a little. Talking to this man outside the Dane’s Refuge earlier that day had certainly been one of the better decisions he’d made recently. He was almost tempted to recruit him.

Garrett spread the oil he’d gathered over his hole, sliding a few fingers into himself with a grimace and spreading it liberally. Andrew gripped his butt again and spread the mounds of flesh to enable him better access. Garrett slicked the excess oil from his fingers over Andrew’s eager cock and maneuvered it, finally, into position.

Andrew’s breath caught as the head of his cock pressed against Garrett’s firm pucker, meeting stiff resistance for a bare instant. Then Garrett relaxed and Andrew slid fully into him, warmth and tight muscle engulfing his shaft to the base in one long, smooth motion. Both of them moaned, and Garrett’s hand clenched against Andrew’s chest. His other hand strayed towards his own cock for a moment, but apparently wanting to save himself, Garrett reached up with both hands to get a solid grip on Andrew’s shoulders.

Andrew’s own hands fondled Garrett’s ass as the lad adjusted to the thick cock lodged inside him. After a moment Andrew started to lift him, Garrett helping with his legs and knees, sliding himself out. Their eyes were locked together as Andrew’s cock withdrew almost entirely, leaving only the head still inside Garrett. They were frozen there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes and teetering on the brink of a mindless carnal rhythm; then they fell into it, grunting and panting and shuddering in unison.

Garrett had the tightest hole Andrew’s cock had ever tasted, and when he clenched himself around the throbbing shaft pumping in and out of him, Andrew’s vision clouded with sparks. He felt like he could barely get enough air even as he was panting for breath, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest and his hands clutching Garrett’s butt like a lifeline. The pleasure he felt was breathtaking, and all he could do was keep at it.

Garrett let out a whimpering grunt every time Andrew thrust his cock up into him, every now and then finding the strength to clench himself around Andrew’s shaft at the apex of his penetration. Andrew growled his approval and grazed Garrett’s chest and neck with his teeth, tasting every part of him his tongue could reach. Garrett leaned into him, rolling his hips in perfect synch with Andrew’s aggressive rhythm. The sound of their thighs slapping together accentuated Andrew’s grunting and Garrett’s keening moans.

Minutes passed in intimate bliss, with Andrew spearing himself into Garrett as roughly as he liked and Garrett taking it all with the earnest desire of masculine, energetic youth. His dick was sliding against Andrew’s abdomen as he bounced, slicking it with pearly fluid and matting down the soft fur that covered the warrior’s skin. Andrew couldn’t keep his mouth off Garrett’s chest, enjoying the smoothness of his skin that was so unlike his own. His tongue and teeth worked at Garrett’s nipples and the sleek muscles of his arms, while his hands remained firmly cupped around Garrett’s butt, guiding the fluid motions of their conjoined bodies.

Some time into their frantic coupling, Garrett seemed to decide that Andrew was ready for some more intense stimulation. He whispered a warning as his lips closed over Andrew’s ear, and Andrew barely had time to brace himself before his body was afire with electric heat from head to toe. It felt like the energy of his entire being was focused into a vortex around his cock as it pumped furiously in and out of the grunting lad atop him. He cried aloud, sinking his teeth into the flesh of Garrett’s bicep barely hard enough not to draw blood. His hands gripped Garrett’s butt with such force that it would later show handprint-shaped bruises.

Garrett evidently didn’t mind – the magical stimulation seemed to affect him too, though probably differently since he was the one with Andrew’s cock penetrating so deeply into him over and over again. If his reactions were any indication, hearing Andrew’s moaning and feeling him writhe against his flesh seemed to be all that Garrett needed. He held on with his mouth to the wildly bucking warrior’s earlobe as long as he could, but eventually his lips were dislodged and the current cut off.

Andrew threw back his head with a growl both disappointed and relieved but kept up his vigorous thrusting. He stared into Garrett’s eyes with a slack-jawed expression for a moment, but managed to arrange his face into a smirk. Garrett smiled back and leaned in for a brief kiss that reignited the current for a moment, making Andrew groan and arch his back, pulling their mouths apart.

Andrew moved his hands off of Garrett’s butt to crawl up his body, burying the fingers of his left hand into Garrett’s thick black hair. He pulled Garrett back to kiss him again, this time without the magical body-fire. Andrew was okay with that; he had no desire for the young mage to burn out either of their nerves. He pushed his tongue into Garrett’s mouth and the lad sucked it lustily; Andrew growled his approval and his hands drifted back down to grasp the lad’s heaving flanks.

Andrew lurched forward suddenly, surprising Garrett into grabbing his shoulders for support. He pushed himself to his feet, supporting Garrett’s weight on his cock with his arms around his back and buttocks, and turned around to push Garrett down onto his back atop the saddle blanket. Garrett was startled by the suddenness and speed at which Andrew had changed their relative positions, but he had no complaints. He wrapped his legs around Andrew’s back as the warrior loomed over him and resumed pounding his cock into Garrett’s tight, slick hole as hard as he could. Garrett ran his hands over the bunched muscles of his back, whimpering and shivering with ecstasy as Andrew sucked greedily on his neck.

Andrew was very near his climax, but he could hold on a little longer. He continued to kiss Garrett’s neck and jaw as he worked a hand between their heaving bodies. He nipped Garrett’s lower lip once before he straightened, solidifying his grip on Garrett’s rigid, leaking cock.

Garrett’s eyes opened wide as he realized what Andrew was doing. He caught his hands around his ankles and pulled them back up to near his head, presenting himself for Andrew to thrust into him as deep as he could reach. Andrew tried to be a little gentler on Garrett’s cock than he was being on his hole, but not by much. Garrett’s eager nod when Andrew made eye contact let him know that his grip was just right, and more than enough to push him rapidly towards orgasm.

Garrett let go of one ankle to lift his hand towards Andrew’s face, and Andrew’s free hand caught it in his grip and brought Garrett’s fingers to his mouth. He curled his tongue around Garrett’s forefinger and sucked it gently, and as both were tensing with the anticipation of imminent climax, Garrett ignited his current once more.

A euphoric starburst flared in the pit of Andrew’s stomach and he barely managed to refrain from bellowing loud enough for Garrett’s family to hear him in the farmhouse. The electric stimulation arced from his tongue all the way down his spine to his cock, still pumping into Garrett with ceaseless urgency. As it was, Andrew bit down involuntarily on Garrett’s finger, hard; the taste of blood on his finger caused a momentary twinge of guilt, but from the rapturous look on Garrett’s face, he hadn’t even felt it.

Andrew’s hand on Garrett’s cock sped up frenetically as the magically-induced ecstasy whirled through them both in a hurricane of sensation. Garrett gritted his teeth, his keening becoming progressively higher-pitched until he let out a strangled moan and his muscles clenched around Andrew’s cock. Hot spunk jetted from his cock across his chest, some of it landing on his face and in his beard.

The expression on Garrett’s face, the noises he was making and the sight of him shooting so copiously all over himself were the catalysts for Andrew’s own explosive climax. The current that was buzzing through him seemed to funnel into his cock in riotous spurts that erupted as he ejaculated, blasting load after load of seed deep inside Garrett. Andrew’s grip weakened and his thrusting slowed as the waves of carnal pleasure washed over him; he could only muffle his bestial growling against Garrett’s shoulder as his body was wracked with shudders, riding the waves that crested and broke against him. He could feel the slick warmth of Garrett’s release between their naked bodies, but it bothered him not in the slightest.

Garrett’s current of power died away gradually, leaving Andrew feeling exhausted and utterly drained but more gratified than he’d ever felt in his life. He rested on top of Garrett for a time, head buried in the hollow of Garrett’s shoulder, his heaving for air eventually subsiding as he caught his breath. Beneath him, Garrett was nerveless and pliant, arms splayed at his sides and eyes closed in post-orgasmic bliss. One arm flopped wearily up onto Andrew’s back and stroked the base of his neck with idle affection.

Presently Andrew mumbled something into Garrett’s neck.

“What?” Garrett asked.

Andrew raised his head and said “Do you want to join the Grey Wardens?”

Garrett laughed and reached up to run his hands through his hair. “I’m flattered,” he said with a smile as Andrew leaned over him to lick some of the semen from his face. “Really, thank you for the offer, but no. I’m good.”

Andrew made a disappointed rumble but didn’t offer any serious protest or attempt to convince Garrett. Instead he brought his lips to Garrett’s and kissed him softly for a time.

“Wow,” Garrett commented as Andrew eventually rolled off him, finally pulling his semi-hard cock out of the younger man with a slick noise. Andrew collapsed on the saddle blanket next to him, supporting his lower half with one foot on the floor.

“You’re telling me,” Andrew replied complacently. “I hesitate to even ask where you learned how to do that.”

“Do what?”

Andrew gave him a withering look. “That _thing_.”

Garrett smirked. “My dad taught me to defend myself with magic. Stopping a person’s heart with electricity is easy, and making it look like the person died of a heart attack is only a little bit harder.”

Andrew looked at him, slightly alarmed.

“He didn’t actually teach me to do that,” Garrett went on. “What I did to you, I mean. That I worked out on my own.”

Privately, Andrew wondered what else Garrett Hawke could do, whether through his father’s instruction or his own ingenuity. He didn’t ask.

Instead he said, “Damn. If all mages can do that, I’ve seriously been missing out.”

Garrett chuckled good-naturedly. “If you’re ever with another mage, ask them to do the electricity thing. Nine out of ten will know exactly what you mean.”

Andrew smiled and filed that bit of information away for later use, thinking of Morrigan.

He noticed Garrett examining the bite marks in his finger, and he felt guilty again. This time, with his rational faculties more-or-less intact, Andrew actually felt bad.

“Sorry about your finger,” he said.

Garrett glanced at him and waved his concern away. “Flesh wound,” he said. “And it was _so_ worth it.” He snapped his fingers on his other hand and a brief crystal blue aura flared around his injury. Garrett then

spread his fingers and wiggled them for Andrew to see. The bite marks were gone; the only traces of the wound were a few tiny spots of blood.

“Huh,” Andrew said. “Right.”

A moment later he started to sit up, but Garrett stopped him with a hand. “Hang on,” he said. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you put your clothes back on.”

Garrett clambered to his feet on the floor of the barn and moved over between Andrew’s legs. He leaned down to run his tongue up Andrew’s abdomen and chest, lapping up the slick of his own semen that had stuck to Andrew’s body. Andrew couldn’t help laughing at the horniness evident in Garrett’s grin when he looked up at him. He curved a hand around Garrett’s head as he reached Andrew’s neck and moved up higher to share a musky kiss.

Garrett darted back down to crouch between Andrew’s legs. He ran his tongue up the shaft of Andrew’s cock, still semi-erect and slick with oil, sweat, and seed. Andrew propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Garrett took the entire length in his mouth in one smooth motion, drawing back with his lips wrapped tightly around the shaft to clean it.

Andrew couldn’t help a breathy grunt of enjoyment as Garrett reached the tip of his cock and swirled his tongue around it. Already he could feel blood rushing back to his groin, hardening it again to its full size in response to Garrett’s questing lips and tongue.

Garrett pulled his mouth off Andrew’s cock with a pop and looked at it with wide, impressed eyes. “Maker’s breath,” he said. “Already?”

“Grey Warden stamina,” Andrew groaned, reaching down to push Garrett’s head back onto his cock. “I wasn’t kidding about that. Mmmm....”

It took some willpower to pull his hand away, but Andrew did it. It didn’t matter; Garrett appeared quite happy to continue bobbing up and down his stiff length.

“You’d better stop now,” Andrew warned huskily. “While I’ll still let you.”

Garrett flashed him a teasing smile (not quite as effective with his mouth full of cock) and ran his tongue one last time up and down the shaft. Then he stood up and reached out a hand to tug Andrew to his feet. Andrew accepted the help, stealing another brief but fiery kiss when he gained his feet. He sidled around Garrett to get to where his clothes were piled on the hay, just visible in the light of the nearly-extinct lantern.

Garrett stretched languidly and looked around for his own clothes. He slipped into his smalls and trousers, but instead of putting on his shirt he used it to wipe away the globs of his spunk still clinging to his body and his beard.

“Did I miss any?” he asked Andrew, who looked up from lacing his breeches to examine Garrett’s face closely. He reached out to draw a few stray beads of semen from Garrett’s beard and flicked them into the darkness. Garrett winked his thanks at him and shoved his soiled shirt into his belt.

“I would invite you to stay the night,” he said, “but I expect you’ve camped with your friends nearby?”

“That’s right,” Andrew said. “As much as I would love to stay, the archdemon beckons.” He let out a quiet grunt of a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “We’re leaving at first light for Redcliffe.”

Garrett nodded. “If Lothering survives the Blight-”

“It won’t,” Andrew cut him off bluntly. He tried to distance himself from the unhappiness and fear he saw on Garrett’s face, but it was hard. “The horde will be here in weeks. Maybe days. You should take your family, take whatever you can carry, and leave, Garrett. Tell all your friends to, as well. I’m not kidding.”

“I know,” Garrett said quietly. “And normally I’d do what you said without question. But... we can’t. Not yet.”

“You can’t?” Andrew asked with his brow furrowed as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Why not?”

“Carver. My brother,” Garrett said, so quietly Andrew almost didn’t hear him. “He was at Ostagar. He’s not back yet and we’ve had no word.”

Andrew almost winced. He didn’t want to tell Garrett his brother’s very probable fate, but from the look on his face, Garrett didn’t need to be told.

“Garrett,” Andrew said in a quiet, serious voice, “you really should leave now. You may not have time to wait.”

Garrett shook his head stubbornly. “I can’t and I won’t,” he said. “My parents’ – my mother’s whole life is here. Carver and Bethany and I – we’re everything to her. There’s no way she’d leave without _all_ of us.”

Andrew sighed. In the short time he’d known Garrett – as a person and intimately – he’d come to like the spirited lad. He didn’t want to see him hurt or killed, or worse, tainted by the darkspawn. There wasn’t really anything he could do short of entering the farmhouse and threatening Garrett’s poor mother into abandoning her home and her life. But maybe....

“Look,” Andrew said, gripping Garrett’s bare shoulders. “I was at Ostagar. There’s me and one other Warden left in all of Ferelden and we survived because of...” He hesitated. “Because of a complete fluke. I want you to promise me that if you receive word the darkspawn are coming, and Carver still hasn’t shown up, that you’ll take your mother and your sister and go.”

Garrett opened his mouth to protest but Andrew cut him off. “If he isn’t here by then, he isn’t coming,” he said. “Promise me, Garrett, _please_. Waiting for a ghost isn’t worth your lives.”

Garrett looked away, and Andrew saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. He nodded without saying anything.

Andrew picked up the lantern and strapped his shield to his back. He handed the ceramic flask and the bottle of oil to Garrett, and followed with the light as the younger man led him out of the barn to the fields between it and the farmhouse.

The sky was afire with stars. The moon was new, its radiant face hidden, so the stars stood out with stark, cool beauty. Garrett paused at the edge of the field to look up, and Andrew stopped beside him.

He watched Garrett for a moment and then, coming to a decision, he put the lantern down between his feet and pulled the leather cord that hung around his neck over his head. On it dangled a drop of crystal with a filament of red-black at its heart. Garrett watched him curiously, staring at the amulet when Andrew held it up. Then his eyes widened as Andrew grabbed his hand and dropped the pendant into it.

“Take this,” he said. “I... I really shouldn’t be giving it to you, but I’m-”

“Then don’t,” Garrett said, trying to push the amulet back into Andrew’s hands, but Andrew wouldn’t take it.

“-but I’m doing it anyway,” he said loudly over Garrett’s protests. “It has magic in it – I’m not sure what kind, but I’ve felt it. It might protect you from the darkspawn.”

“All the more reason to keep it,” Garrett argued. “You’re a Grey Warden. You’re the one who _fights_ darkspawn. On _purpose_.”

Andrew shook his head. “You need its protection more than I do,” he said. “I have a sorceress with me.”

“And I’m a mage,” Garrett reminded him. “So is my sister. I know a lot more than just how to heal sexual bite wounds and make you tingle all over.”

“Garrett,” Andrew said in the tone he’d once used to deliver orders at Castle Cousland, “take the fucking amulet and don’t argue.”

Garrett sighed and shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his smile. He closed his hand around the Warden’s oath.

“Alright,” he said. “Thank you, Grey Warden.”

Andrew nodded, and on impulse he grabbed Garrett’s head between his hands and leaned in to kiss him one last time. This time, the interplay of their tongues was gentle, conducted with a certain bittersweet affection. Andrew couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if things were different. If he wasn’t a Grey Warden, or if perhaps Garrett was.

When their lips parted, Andrew leaned his forehead against Garrett’s and said in an intense whisper, “If we ever meet again, I’ll expect that back.”

Garrett reached up to run a finger down Andrew’s jaw and nodded.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For the fuck of my life.”

Andrew smirked. “You’re welcome. And thank you.” He drew back, but their hands sought each other almost in unison. Andrew squeezed Garrett’s palms and Garrett squeezed him back.

“Maker watch over you, Garrett Hawke.”

“And over you, Andrew Cousland.”

Andrew turned away and began to walk. Their hands stretched out to remain in contact until the Grey Warden disappeared into the gloom.

Garrett listened to Andrew’s footsteps in the grass until they faded from earshot. He stood for a while looking at the stars, thinking, feeling the warmth of Andrew’s body in the amulet slowly becoming the warmth of his own. Eventually he picked up the lantern and headed for the farmhouse.

∞

Varric stared at Hawke with a combination of disbelief, awe, and high mirth. “You are _shitting_ me.”

“I shit you not, Varric. I met the Hero of Ferelden and I fucked him in my barn.”

Garrett smirked. “Well, really he fucked _me_. And oh, Maker, what a fuck it was.” His eyes drifted closed and a blissful smile crossed his face. “I still dream about Andrew Cousland sometimes.”

Varric held up a hand to forestall any further comments on that subject. “Thank you, Hawke, but I’m quite able to make up the saucy details on my own. Did you ever see him again?”

“No,” Hawke said regretfully. “I think... he seemed so convinced that Carver had died at Ostagar. I don’t blame him, really – Carver and Aveline were incredibly lucky. Hardly anyone escaped that place alive. Carver got back to Lothering just ahead of the horde, and we barely escaped in time. But Andrew... I saw that he could tell I wouldn’t leave Lothering without Carver, and he... he didn’t want me to die. So he gave me the only thing he had that he could spare.” His smile was simultaneously wistful and sad.

“So you do still have the amulet,” Varric said softly. “...May I see it?”

Garrett reached into the neck of his Champion’s mantle and withdrew the small crystal teardrop with the curl of darkness in its core. Varric stood up to take it between his fingers, holding it up to the light of the midday sun streaming in through the window of his suite.

“A Warden’s oath,” Varric said with quiet amazement. “I’ve never seen one up close before. I can’t believe you’ve never shown this to me.”

“You never asked to see it,” Garrett said with his characteristic snark, and Varric smacked his chest playfully. “Carver has one just like it,” Garrett added. “I saw it when he showed up during the battle with the qunari.”

Varric smiled and shook his head. “That’s an incredible story, Hawke,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to squeeze it out of you.”

“Sorry, Varric,” Garrett said cheekily. “Much as the thought of you squeezing anything of mine gets me all a-tingle, Fenris might react badly if he found out. You don’t want him to rip your heart out and feed it to you, do you?”

“No,” Varric said wryly. “I’ll try to contain myself around you, Hawke, if for no other reason than to keep my heart in my chest.”

Garrett winked as he tucked Andrew’s amulet back under his robes. He thought of that night in the barn with the then-future Hero of Ferelden and felt a surge of melancholy homesickness alongside an erotic thrill. He couldn’t honestly say he thought of Andrew Cousland every day, but the man did come to mind every now and then. He wondered where Andrew was now, and if the Hero of Ferelden ever thought of him.


End file.
